News, views, food, books and other writings, with the assist of character dolls. My art blog, dealing with fine art, exhibits and works in progress, is http://beautifulmetaphor.blogspot.com.
Please note that all pictures and text are copyright to Liz Adams, and may not be used in any form without explicit permission. Thank you for respecting my ownership.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Fifty years across the ocean!

Celebrate with me! today marks fifty years, count them, since I set foot on these shores to live happily ever after.

Still remember the excitement of approaching the harbor -- we came by ship, figuring it was a lifetime opportunity to actually travel, rather than cruise, on a ship, which it was -- seeing the Verrazano Narrows bridge still under construction, the Statue of Liberty, and then actually docking at the end of a street!

So used to ships that docked far from city centers, in their own dockland, that it was amazing to look down and see traffic, and cabs waiting for people to disembark, and people waiting to greet passengers. As soon as I stepped ashore everything just felt right. It even smelled right, as if I'd come home. I swear I was born in the wrong country!

And despite all the ups and downs life has handed out, not a moment of nostalgia for the UK, just gladness that we had the sense to do what we did, leave and carve out entirely new and better lives for us and Handsome Son, who was still several years into the future.

Indeed, it has been better, going from being wrong class (UK still rigid in the 60s) wrong sex (ditto) and wrong religion (ditto) to being an equal partner in whatever was going on, able to achieve practically every ambition I've ever had, and I've had a few!

Handsome Partner, then husband, was invited by a number of institutions to do postdoctoral work, being an atom scientist in great demand after Sputnik, and I secured projects as a modern language person, also in demand because of the postwar realization that more languages were needed in the public schools.

Interestingly, members of both sides of my family emigrated from the UK to the US in the 1850s, arriving in the same New York harbor I did, and settling somewhere in New York state, not in touch, don't know more, Mom being the historian of that family lore. So I'm both first generation and possibly eighth, but who's counting.

Anyway, I now have to stop because the chimney sweeps are at the door, chop wood, carry water!